You understand the date is the twenty-fourth of December, and the same sun which you haven’t stared at since the age of six is hammering needles into your eyes through the cowboy hat which has affixed itself to your face.

Not even stopping to blink, you try to invite air into your lungs but it is quickly intercepted by the dust your fall kicked up.

You reflexively shoot up, hat falling onto the ground where you would soon forget about it. You enter a coughing fit for the next 30-40 seconds.

Raising your head, you spot through teary eyes a creature unfamiliar to you, appearing bafflingly simplistic in nature.

It speaks to you.

hey

..

yeah you with the, uh, heart.. apparatus

You are filled with immense terror right after they called attention to the pulsing organism on your back, and you realize that you were taking great care to not let its beating knock you forward into your newfound interlocutor.

yeah um i don’t think you can be here.

-'s private property and uhh

what are you talking about

uhhh i don’t think i have time to get into all that right now just walk a little to the left please

You oblige, declining to question the absurdity of referring to an objective 'left' when both of you are facing different directions